After decades of fighting, Bowraville families still wait for justice

After 34 years as a cop, Gary Jubelin found himself marching with the families of three murdered children in an Aboriginal protest rally in the heart of Sydney.

• Grieving Bowraville families’ 30-year fight for empathy
• Cops pulled from Bowraville child ‘serial killings’ case

Is Australia truly an open, egalitarian country or is that just a comfortable delusion?

Are we, in fact, a racist, class-based society, not even aware of our own unconscious biases?

These are the questions I had to ask myself last year, after 34 years as a policeman, when I found myself part of an Aboriginal protest rally in the heart of Sydney.

It was one of those typical, beautiful Sydney Sunday afternoons; the streets around Town Hall filled with shoppers and tourists — and a group of people I’ve come to know very well. They looked nervous, sad and fearful. I felt very protective of them because I understood how much they had suffered and how hard they had fought.

They are the families of three murdered children. They’ve had no justice, despite 30 years of fighting. Though not yet proven by the courts, it’s suspected these children were murdered by a serial killer, and NSW Police did not handle the original investigation as well as it should have.

Gary Jubelin spent two decades seeking justice for the families of the murdered Bowraville children. Pictured are the three victims: Colleen Walker, 16, Clinton Speedy, 16 and Evelyn Greenup, 4.

Law reforms intended to ensure the murders can be heard by a single jury have failed.

Still, it was uncomfortable for me, having just retired from the police in controversial circumstances, to join the protest. I wasn’t sure what my former organisation would think about me attending a public rally, even though I was there as a private citizen.

It’s funny what you notice when your circumstances change: in this case, I couldn’t help observing that the amount of police gathering initially outnumbered the protesters. I realised for the first time how intimidating it feels to have the eyes of so many police officers staring at you.

Former detective chief inspector Gary Jubelin hugs Rebecca Stadham, mother of four-year-old Evelyn, who was murdered in Bowraville, at a ceremony with the families of the three children murdered. Picture: The Australian

The protest started on the steps of Town Hall with family members – anguish etched across their faces – holding up placards and pictures of the children. They were calling on politicians to enact further law reform to finally get these matters heard in one criminal trial, as they should be.

It might seem futile, but one thing I’ve learnt as a cop is that if families don’t agitate or push for results, nothing happens.

Three dead kids. A possible serial killer walking free. Police missing investigative opportunities because of race-based assumptions and biases.

You’d think Bowraville would be burning on the national conscience.

Sadly, this is not the case. Mistakes were made during the initial investigation because people did not care. It appears a disadvantaged, marginalised group of people such as the Aboriginal community from a mid-north coast New South Wales town does not warrant our attention, concern or sympathy.

Michelle Jarrett, aunt of Evelyn, speaks to media in Sydney during a 2019 protest aimed at reminding the public the Bowraville murders remain unsolved. Picture: The Australian

When the families first told me, back in 1997, that nobody cared because they were Aboriginal, I didn’t believe them.

Now it’s clear as day to me: they were right.

We all know the response would have been different if these were three white children from Sydney’s north shore.

After the speeches, the rally moved through the city, as protesters shouted: “Black lives matter!” and “Too many coppers, not enough justice!”

All along the route, the police watched us closely.

This was the largest Sydney protest I’ve personally witnessed. There were crowds of onlookers lining the route, but a startling lack of mainstream media representatives.

The rally’s organisers had alerted newsrooms across the city, but the only journalists in attendance were from the indigenous media.

A number of protesters approached me, expressing their disappointment that the media didn’t seem interested.

Gary Jubelin: “We know the responses would have been different if these children were white.”

And then it hit me. I’m not a policeman. I’m free to say — and write — what I think. After 34 years in the police, I must admit I couldn’t bring myself to chant along with the protesters, but I was certainly with them in spirit. I’m deeply saddened that these families have gone through such trauma, which is compounded by their belief people just don’t care.

Being a homicide detective for a long time has taught me justice does not bring closure for any grieving family — but it does relieve the pain just a little bit.

As the protesters started to disperse, I was approached by the Inspector who was co-ordinating the police response to the rally.

There was a moment of uncertainty on both our faces as we shook hands. The inspector told me the Local Area Commander had asked him to say hello to me.

Immediately, a smile spread across my face. In cop world, that was the police force’s way of showing they understood what the families are protesting about and are supporting them. I thanked the inspector for the way his men and women conducted themselves during the rally and the obvious empathy they had for these families.

I walked away feeling a bit better: comforted that the rank and file of NSW Police do care about these families.

It’s up to the rest of us, particularly in the media, to show we care, too.